


Have No Fear

by lizwontcry



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/pseuds/lizwontcry
Summary: Ginny Baker doesn't consider herself a role model, but all the little girls and their signs in the crowd disagree. She gets some helpful advice from her father (and a certain cocky Padres catcher) to help show her why she's really playing this game.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katayla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katayla/gifts).



> Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy the story. I wanted to fulfill your first prompt but I don't know enough about baseball to not butcher it!

_Ginny is my role model!_

_I'm Next!_

_Girls for Ginny!_

The signs were everywhere. All the time. It started when Ginny played in high school and never, ever seemed to stop.

Although she tries her hardest to smile at all the little girls with the signs and make small talk with them about how she can't wait to play ball with them when they're older, Ginny, well... she kind of hates it. She's not a role model, nor did she ever want to be. And sometimes she just plain _resents_ these girls, if she's going to be honest with herself.

Baseball has always been Ginny's life, but it never came without a cost. The relationship with her mother, any kind of free time to explore what else she may be interested in, friendships with anyone other than her teammates... Bill had always taught her that these sacrifices were necessary in order to get to the big leagues, which was, of course, the ultimate goal.

So needless to say, Ginny sees those little girls and has an inner conflict. On one hand, she _wants_ to be their hero. She wants her presence in the male-dominated sport to inspire girls to break down barriers and defy gender stereotypes. But at the same time, she's just... maybe jealous isn't the right word, exactly, but she's something along those lines. They all look so care-free and happy, and Ginny knows if they follow her path, that might not be the case. She wants to tell them that all this hard work may not even be worth it. That they should enjoy their childhood and teenage years without the stress of meeting such an ambitious goal. Not to mention the sexism that exists in every facet of the game. Of course, she doesn't mention this to her fans. Instead, she smiles and signs their autograph books and poses for selfies. If nothing else, Ginny wants to be a crowd pleaser.

"They _can_ be where I am," Ginny told her father once. They were taking a break from practicing in the backyard, drinking the lemonade that Will brought outside for them. "All it takes is a lot of hard work and dedication. It's not rocket science."

Bill nods, looking thoughtful. "Most girls don't have what it takes to get where you are--where you're going to be."

"I just don't understand why they look up to me so much. I don't want to be looked up to, Pop. I want to play the game. I want to win the game."

Ginny will probably never forget the look of respect she got from her father that day. It was so hard to please Bill, not that she ever stopped trying. But it was like he was finally seeing something in Ginny that he'd been trying to make her understand since the beginning.

"That's right, girl. That's the correct attitude to have. Look, don't worry about the little girls. They want a role model; they want to know that they have all the opportunities their brothers have. And there's certainly nothing wrong with that. But don't let it be your motivation, either way. Don't let that be the reason you play--the reason why you win. You are your own person, Ginny. Be that person."

This made perfect sense to Ginny that day. And it still does. Yes, she wishes all her little fans luck in the future; she hopes they can be as successful as she is someday. But that's not why she plays baseball. That's not why she wants to go all the way. She wants all those things because...because she's never known it any other way. She was born a baseball player, and she'll die a baseball player. It's in her blood now.

However, when Bill died, a huge part of Ginny did, too. She kept going through the motions--it was so easy to go through the motions and pretend that her reason for being who she is today hadn't just gone head-first through the windshield of the car he was driving. But Ginny started to wonder if maybe those little girls had the answers, after all. Maybe she really was playing for them now. Maybe they were all she had left.

All of these thoughts were screaming through her head during her first game with the San Diego Padres. This was what she'd been working so hard for all her life; this is why she sacrificed everything. And yet, she couldn't make anything happen. Ginny was screwing up her first try in the MLB and disappointing everyone--especially those girls who watched her every move.

That's when she found herself getting a lecture from her captain, and the man in the poster that was on her wall for an embarrassing number of years. It's still so surreal sometimes to be playing on the same team as Mike Lawson, but as she learned, he's one hell of a speech giver.

"It seems like you've got a lot of people telling you who you're doing this for," Mike tells her in the middle of the (somewhat disastrous) game. "And I wonder if it's not about time you start doing this for yourself. Just you. Screw all the attention. And you know what, screw all those adorable little girls in the crowd with their Ginny Baker signs, 'cause you're not a Girl Scout leader, Rookie. You're a ballplayer. You do this for you. You do this for your team, or you don't do it all. 'Cause you can't aim your pitches if you're aiming to please everyone."

Even though Mike Lawson could be an arrogant son of a bitch, Ginny was inspired enough by his speech to go out there and kick some ass. And it's his voice she hears, and her Pop's, when her own voice gets lost in the sea of little girls. Someday she'll be able to drown it all out completely; someday she'll have enough experience, enough of a thick skin, to do it on her own. But for now, she knows the only people who truly matter are herself and her teammates. She does it for her, and she does it for them. And if she inspires some girls on the way there, that's just an added bonus.

"You are my hero," Bill told her once in a moment of vulnerability. Ginny had been so surprised, she almost fainted. "And not because you're a woman or you're a black woman or because you're good at baseball. It's your heart, Ginny. It's your mind and your soul. I understand how those girls feel, because I feel it, too. Only it's a hundred times more powerful because you're my girl. You've fought so hard to get here. And the fact that you always keep fighting inspires me. Have no fear. You're your own hero."

Ginny remembers this when times get tough. Her dad was a fighter until the end. And she can be, too. Not only for him, and not only for the girls, but for her. Because it's her life, her fight, and her dream.

*****

She notices how her daughter's eyes light up whenever Ginny is close by. They've been going to as many Padres games as time and money will allow, because this is the happiest Erica has seen Jessica since the divorce. She thought her daughter would never have a smile on her face again--maybe even never come out of her room again--but Ginny Baker is making it happen. A female playing in the Majors. A _black_ female playing in the Majors. Erica was pretty sure she'd never see the day that happened, not for lack of trying, though. Apparently she just didn't try hard enough, because there Ginny is, for all the world to see, playing baseball among men.

Erica has read about Ginny; she knows all about Ginny's demanding father and her tough childhood. Erica had supportive parents who cheered whether she won or lost a game. Maybe that's the difference, she supposes. Ginny had someone who wouldn't let her be average. Bill wanted her to go to the top, and Ginny headed there as fast as she could. 

However jealous she may be of this woman who is more than a decade younger than her, Erica is still in awe of what Ginny accomplished. Erica's grandparents were a part of the Civil Rights movement--they stood and marched and their voices were never silent, no matter what price they paid for being heard. Her grandfather died years ago but her grandmother was now a proud and vocal San Diego Padres fan. This is what she tried so hard to achieve in her youth. And although racial tensions are high in 2016, especially with the incoming president and all the police brutality that's been occurring, Ginny Baker is paving the way for all the little girls who have never had such representation before. Amazing. This woman is amazing.

Ginny is always so focused during her games; she only stops to say hello to a few of her fans before getting her head back into it. Jessica wants to get Ginny's attention so badly, but she doesn't want to distract her, either, which Erica loves about her sweet daughter. A year ago, Jessica was ignoring everyone, not doing her homework, acting out, and just basically being a nightmare. But now she's turned back into the lovable, charismatic, motivated girl that Erica knew she could be. 

It's during the second round of the playoffs that Jessica's wish came true. The Padres are playing the Cubs, and they're down 1-3 in the series. Everyone knows it's the Cubs' time to win it all, so nobody is really surprised how these games are playing out. Erica had won some amazing seats from a pool at work, so instead of being in the nosebleeds as usual, she and Jessica are sitting very close to the field. Jessica is cheering on all the players she knows so well by now--Lawson, Sanders, Duarte (who she has a bit of a crush on, Erica notices). She gets a high-five from Butch Hunter, which makes her dissolve into a fit of giggles.

Finally, Ginny is coming towards them. She looks determined, motivated, a little dangerous. 

"Mom! There she is! There she is!"

"I know, Honey, I see her," Erica says, hoping--no, _praying_ \--that Ginny will stop for a second, just a second, to say hello to her daughter.

Jessica wants to be respectful and not lose her cool, but, well, she does anyway. "Ginny! Ginny, please! GINNY!"

Ginny looks in Jessica's direction and smiles at the young girl who is losing her mind. She walks towards them, and Erica exhales. Finally.

"Hey! What's your name?" Ginny asks, grinning.

"Jessica! Ohmygod! I've wanted to meet you for so long!" Jessica exclaims.

"That's amazing! Are you a baseball fan?"

"Yes! My mom used to play in college and she's teaching me a bunch of stuff."

Ginny looks at Erica, who nods, also smiling. 

"Really? Where'd you play?"

"University of Texas," Erica says. 

"Oh, wow. They were always a tough team," Ginny says. "We almost always lost against them. They were like our big rivals."

Ginny means the men's baseball team, not the women's softball team, which Erica was on because she was never taken seriously enough (or worked hard enough) to be on the baseball team, but that's okay. Not everyone could have taken Ginny's path, and they both know that.

"Yeah, I caught most of your games on TV. You guys always put up a tough fight." 

Ginny returned her attention to Jessica, who was still gazing at Ginny like she was some kind of Baseball Angel. 

"Are you on a team yet?" Ginny asks her.

"No! I'm not good enough yet," Jessica says.

"Well, you will be soon if your mom is teaching you. I can't wait to see you play for the big leagues some day," Ginny says, and reaches out her hand to shake Jessica's. Jessica eagerly shakes Ginny's hand, while Erica manages to take a picture that will probably be Jessica's Facebook profile pic for the next 14 years or so.

Ginny says good-bye to her newest adoring fan and runs off to join her teammates. Erica has never seen her daughter rendered speechless before, but she doesn't seem capable of opening her mouth at the moment.

"Well, she's nice, isn't she?" Erica says, to get her daughter to function again.

"Ohmygod," Jessica says, and then sits back down in her seat. The two of them watch the game--which the Cubs win with ease--and cheer Ginny on loudly and gratefully. 

Erica knows that Ginny is still overwhelmed by the adoring fans and media and the microscope she's under in general, but her impact on girls and women throughout the world could never be undervalued. Her daughter now knows she can be or do whatever she wants as long as she works hard enough to accomplish it, and Erica will always be grateful to Ginny Baker for that.


End file.
